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“See you later.” He turned to walk away.
“Yes, later,” she said to his back.
Their parting was cordial. No angry words had been spoken. No warnings had been issued. But as she watched him disappear into the crowd, she had the vague feeling that a new set of battle lines had been drawn between them.
Chapter
28
Although Dallie made several halfhearted attempts to smooth his relationship with Teddy, the two of them were like oil and water. When his father was around, Teddy bumped into furniture, broke dishes, and sulked. Dallie was quick to criticize the child, and the two of them grew increasingly miserable in each other's company. Francesca tried to act as a conciliator, but so much tension had built up between herself and Dallie since the evening they had danced at the Roustabout that she only succeeded in losing her own temper.
The afternoon of her third and final day in Wynette, she confronted Dallie in the basement after Teddy had run upstairs and kicked a chair across the kitchen. “Couldn't you sit down and do a puzzle with him or read a book together?” she demanded. “What in God's name made you think he could learn to shoot pool with you yelling at him the entire time?”
Dallie glared at the jagged tear in the green felt that covered his pool table. “I wasn't yelling, and you stay out of this. You're leaving tomorrow, and that doesn't give me much time to make up for nine years of too much female influence.”
“Only partial female influence,” she retorted. “Don't forget that Holly Grace spent a lot of time with him, too.”
His eyes narrowed. “And just what do you mean by that remark?”
“It means she was one hell of a better father than you'll ever be.”
Dallie stalked away from her, every muscle in his body taut with belligerence, only to reappear at her side moments later. “And another thing. I thought you were going to talk to him—explain about how I'm his father.”
“Teddy's not in the mood for any explanations. He's a smart kid. He'll catch on when he's ready.”
His eyes raked her body with deliberate insolence. “You know what I think's wrong with you? I think you're still an immature child who can't stand not getting her own way!”
Her eyes raked him right back. “And I think you're a brainless jock who's not worth a damn without a bloody golf club in his hand!”
They threw angry words at each other like guided missiles, but even as the hostilities between them mounted, Francesca had the vague sensation that nothing either of them said was hitting its target. Their words were merely an ineffective smoke screen that did little to hide the fact that the air between them was smoldering with lust.
“It's no wonder you never got married. You're about the coldest woman I ever met in my life.”
“There are a number of men who'd disagree. Real men, not glamour boys who wear their jeans so tight you have to wonder what they're trying to prove.”
“It just shows where you've been putting your eyes.”
“It just shows how bored I've been.” The words flew around their heads like bullets, leaving both of them seething with frustration and putting everyone else in the household on edge.
Finally Skeet Cooper had had enough. “I've got a surprise for the two of you,” he said, sticking his head through the basement door. “Come on up here.”
Not looking at each other, Dallie and Francesca climbed the steps to the kitchen. Skeet was waiting by the back door holding their jackets. “Miss Sybil and Doralee are gonna take Teddy to the library. You two are coming with me.”
“Where are we going?” Francesca asked.
“I'm not in the mood,” Dallie snapped.
Skeet threw a red windbreaker at Dallie's chest. “I don't give a good goddamn whether you're in the mood or not, because I guaran-damn-tee you that you're gonna be shy one caddy if you don't hustle yourself into my car in about the next thirty seconds.”
Grumbling under his breath, Dallie followed Francesca out to Skeet's Ford. “You ride in the back,” Skeet told him. “Francie's riding up here with me.” Dallie grumbled some more, but did as he was told.
Francesca did her best to drive Dallie even crazier during the ride by indulging in a pleasant conversation with Skeet and pointedly leaving him out. Skeet ignored Dallie's questions about where they were going, saying only that he had the solution to at least some of their problems. They were nearly twenty miles outside of Wynette on a road that looked vaguely familiar to Francesca, when Skeet pulled the car over to the side.
“I've got something real interesting in the trunk of my car that I want both of you to see.” Sliding up on one hip, he pulled a spare key from his pocket and tossed it back to Dallie. “You go look, too, Francie. I think this'll make the two of you feel a whole lot better.”
Dallie regarded him suspiciously, but opened the door and climbed out. Francesca zipped up her jacket and did the same. They walked along opposite sides of the car to the back, and Dallie reached toward the trunk lock with the key. Before he could touch it, however, Skeet hit the accelerator and peeled away, leaving the two of them standing at the side of the road.
Francesca stared at the rapidly vanishing car in bewilderment. “What—”
